


Code of Silence

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-15
Updated: 2007-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch goes quiet and Starsky tries to break him. For the "Silent Hutch" challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Silent Hutch" challenge on the Me &amp; Thee list. Thanks to MaryM for the flash-beta. Mistakes are mine.

"No way." Starsky pushed himself back into the corner of their booth, snagging and draining his beer glass.

His partner turned to look at him, challenge in his eyes. After swallowing and wiping his mouth, he asked, "What's your bet?"

"You can't do it, Hutch." He grinned.

"Of course I can." Mister Cocky.

"Nope. You have too much to say and you don't ever hold back in the sayin' of it."

Icy blue stared back at him. "Like hell. You know, Starsk, sometimes you just think far too much of your-"

Starsky grinned widely at him, and then tossed a french fry into Hutch's open mouth. Hutch gagged and coughed, and Starsky laughed. "Well, that's one way to shut you up."

"Starsk!" Suddenly Starsky realized his vulnerable position, tucked against the wall with Hutch taking up the exit space.

"Hey, Hutch, settle down, settle down. You're okay, right?"

Hutch leaned over him, and for a wild moment Starsky wondered if he was going to get violently kissed, here in Huggy's. That would be good for business.

He pushed a hand against Hutch's chest. "C'mon, partner, hey..."

Hutch relented and sat back in his seat. Starsky waited for him to cool off, watching him stare at the bar, sweep his gaze over the other tables and patrons, down into his nearly empty beer glass, and finally back to Starsk.

"That hurts, Starsk."

Starsky blinked. Hurts?

"What hurts?"

"That you don't believe I could do this."

"It's nothing, Hutch, whaddya gettin' so worked up about? You want to do it, fine, do it." He slumped back into the corner.

"Fine."

"Rules."

"Rules? Oh, sure, lay them on me, Starsk. I'm all a-quiver wondering what sort of rules you have in mind."

Starsk pushed one leg forward to nudge against Hutch's, the most they would ever do in public and no more touching than people were used to them doing anyway. Sharing the seat in the booth brought attention enough. They'd been asked about that once, and they agreed that the answer to always give was that it made it much easier to hear each other than shouting across a table. In reality, it was the closest they could come to showing just how in love with each other they were.

"I mean, what rules do you want for this? You're the one who's decided to do it."

Hutch glared at him, and Starsky decided it was in disgust. "You're pathetic," Hutch stated.

"I suppose you could just shut up now," Starsky growled back at him.

"Okay, okay, fine. Today's Thursday. We have to work tomorrow. I have to do some talking just as a matter of course&amp;mdashbut only what's absolutely necessary."

"What's considered absolutely necessary?"

"Warning you to get down, for one thing." Hutch leaned in and Starsky believed the concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, of course. What else, besides dangerous situations?"

"You can do questioning, answering the radio, things like that. I'll talk only when I really feel I have to."

"What if you talk and I don't think you needed to?" Starsky challenged, leaning closer himself.

"I guess that depends on if I agree."

"Right." Starsky kicked him under the table. "Like that'll happen."

"No, really, Starsk. I'm serious about this."

Starsky turned to face the table again, playing with sugar packets. A thought came to him, wicked, a way to make Hutch talk.

He smiled slyly, gazing at Hutch sideways from below his lashes. "Okay, you're on. Starting tomorrow morning, you're as quiet as a churchmouse that only squeaks when it's gotta. Once shift is over, the weekend is ours and I'll only hear the sound of my voice for the entire time, right?"

"Right."

"So what's the prize?"

Hutch put his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand. "What do you want?"

Starsky knew that look, knew why Hutch had deliberately turned his face away from the room. Pure lust shone from those blue eyes.

"Not that."

"No?"

"No."

Hutch sighed. "Okay, then, what?"

"You talk and you take me out to a restaurant of MY choice. What do you want if you win?"

Hutch smiled wickedly at him. "Same thing."

Starsky groaned inwardly, visions of vegetarian glop on a plate making the beer in his stomach jump in its bubbles. "Deal."

"Midnight Sunday, then?"

"Midnight Sunday."

*~*~*

Friday dawned and Starsky danced down his stairs, already envisioning lobster and steak for the night's meal. Hutch loved far too much to try and take Starsky down a peg whenever he could, and Starsky felt he could annoy his partner enough to make him give up and talk before lunchtime.

He was wrong.

He had prattled on about various ridiculous things he'd read in a magazine, had told jokes that had no punchline, had ruminated on whether or not Sue in records was having an affair with Minnie. That one earned him a one-eyebrow-raised glare, but Hutch said not a word. Starsky was stuck with trying to drive the car and answer the radio, figuring out what Hutch might want for lunch by asking yes or no questions, and doing all the talking in Dobey's office.

"Sore throat," he offered, when Dobey gruffly asked Starsky why he wasn't letting Hutch get a word in. Hutch merely gave Dobey a woeful look and stroked at his neck with his fingertips, a move that not only 'confirmed' Starsky's answer to their captain, but also set Starsky's groin on fire. Those long fingers, touching that smooth skin...time to put Plan B into action.

Once back at their desks, Starsky dared to touch Hutch's foot beneath the desk with his own. Hutch moved it. Starsky stood and came around behind his partner, leaning down close as if needing to read the paper in Hutch's hand. Hutch tossed it into the basket.

As they drove out to question a possible witness, Starsky put his hand on Hutch's knee.

Hutch pinched the back of his hand.

"Ow! Dammit, Hutch! That hurt!"

Hutch just looked at him, shrugged, and stared out the window.

Starsky grumbled under his breath. End of shift couldn't come too soon. He knew that Hutch knew he was driving Starsky crazy with his self-touching, fanning his shirt open, stroking his temple.

Beyond Starsky's heightened arousal level, it ended up being a rather anticlimactic day. Starsky actually felt a little lonely without Hutch talking to him. The hours stretched on until Starsky finally called them in as off duty.

"Well, partner, you survived the work day, and without saying a word. That I heard, anyway. Did you?"

Hutch shook his head, smiling slightly.

"My place?" Starsky asked. "I can order pizza or something."

Hutch nodded, still smiling.

"You are so sure of yourself, aren't you?" Starsky asked, hitting the brakes a little hard at the traffic light, just to knock Hutch forward a tad.

The brilliant grin from his partner made Starsky feel almost like Hutch had a secret he wasn't sharing.

"Yeah, yeah."

*~*~*

Silence.

Eating in silence.

Watching tv in silence.

Not being able to really talk to his partner about their day, the case, each other...Starsky was BORED.

Time for more of Plan B.

He stretched out on his sofa, resting his head on Hutch's thigh. An arm rested absently across his chest, and Starsky played with Hutch's fingers, counting and tapping, straightening and bending, finally entwining their fingers together. He gazed up at Hutch, who was watching him, eyes soft.

"Okay, I give, Hutch. You can talk."

The eyes widened for a moment, then crinkled in amusement as Hutch shook his head.

"Whaddya mean, no? I'm lonely here. I need to hear your voice."

Hutch shook his head ruefully, pulled up Starsky's wrist to look at the time, sighed, and turned back to the tv.

"Gotta prove you're right, huh? Well, guess I'll just amuse myself, then." With that Starsky began to nuzzle his nose into Hutch's stomach, tickling. Hutch squirmed but otherwise ignored him.

Starsky, undaunted, rolled over onto his stomach. He rubbed his nose against Hutch's crotch, pleased to feel the organ enclosed within begin to swell. He slid to the floor and began to unbutton Hutch's shirt.

Hutch tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the tv. Starsky knee-walked over to turn it off. "Better? Or would you rather watch it than me?"

Hutch stared back at him, as if to say 'duh'. "Right." Starsky returned to his task.

Buttons undone, he spread the fabric wide, exposing the smooth chest. Starsky was a bouncy guy, all big moves and exuberance, but when it came to his lover, gentle foreplay was the ticket. Big moves could come later.

With feather-light fingertips, he measured and counted each rib, dipped his tongue into a navel, pressed his chest against the slowly thrusting groin that pushed up against him. While circling both thumbs against rock-hard nipples, he dragged his tongue across a chin barely ghosting a late-night stubble, licked at the lips parted for panting.

Hutch shuddered beneath him, clenched his hands in Starsky's hair, but made no sound.

Starsky marveled at his control. He knew that he himself would have started groaning the second Hutch touched him.

He made up for the quiet himself, adding appreciative moans and mutters to his licking and kissing, whispering dirty words into Hutch's ear as he unbuckled the belt, slowly drawing it out from loops, imagining the feel of the slide around his waist before finally unzipping Hutch's pants and reaching in to stroke at the monster within.

Hutch's breath caught and Starsky's head snapped up. His lover's eyes were closed and his head flung back, teeth snagged hard on the lower lip. Seeing Hutch so close to the edge sent Starsky's hand to his own groin, rubbing to ease the ache. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them and his underwear down around his thighs, then tugged Hutch's into the same position.

Hutch's cock rose before him, flushed as red as Hutch's face now floating above him, watching. Starsky took a cock in each hand, mirroring the strokes as he leaned up to kiss his partner.

Hungry lips took his, tongue thrusting, and Starsky moaned, fists working faster. Breaking free from the kiss, he bent to take the head of Hutch's cock in his mouth.

Hutch stiffened and made a small strangling sound. Starsky grinned around his mouthful. Almost! He slid the rigid cock deeper into his mouth, his hand pumping short strokes along the column that didn't fit inside.

Hutch slid down and spread his legs, fingers finding a home in Starsky's hair, tightening and loosening.

Starsky sucked hard and slid his mouth up until Hutch's cocked popped out of his mouth. "C'mon, Hutch," he whispered. "Tell me what you want. More of this?" He licked the tip. "You want my fingers up your ass?" Hutch tossed his head and spread his legs wider. "Or maybe you want to fuck me? Do you? Ram your pretty, hard cock up my ass?" Disengaging Hutch's fingers, he stood, stripping himself free of his clothes entirely. "You want me, Hutch?

Oh, Christ, Hutch was beautiful. Spread wide on the sofa, shirt open, pants around his ankles, hair mussed and face sweaty. Starsky looked hard into the hazy blue eyes, seeing need and want.

He turned and walked to the bedroom, slowly, turning once to say, "Don't move."

He returned with lube. "I know what you want, Hutch." He squeezed some out on to his fingers, then reached beneath himself. "You want this fine ass of mine, squeezing your cock dry. Am I right?"

He inserted two fingers inside, stretching himself. "Oh, man, that's tight. So tight, Hutch."

Hutch's breathing increased audibly, his gaze watching the motion of Starsky's hand.

"Oh, yeah. Here I come, Hutch. Gonna give you what you want." He climbed onto the sofa, straddling Hutch's lap. Reaching beneath him, he guided the head of Hutch's cock to his opening. "You've been so good, so quiet, not saying nothin' all this time. I think you've earned this." He pushed down slowly, sliding his body onto Hutch's cock inch by inch. His eyes closed. "You are so big, Hutch. You're splitting me in two. Gonna kill me." He felt hands on his face, caressing, felt Hutch's breath.

The back of his thighs met the tops of Hutch's and they sat there, unmoving, for eternal seconds. Hutch's hands slid down Starsky's back and grasped his ass.

Starsky began to rise and fall, so slowly, his cock rubbing against Hutch's chest as he watched the play of pleasure ripple across his partner's face. Gasps from Hutch and whispers from Starsky, they set a rhythm. Hutch moved just slightly and the angle inside changed, bringing a sharp shout from Starsky. "Hutch! Oh, god, Hutch...I'm..."

Hutch reached in front of him, took Starsky's cock in hand, and Starsky felt his next cry swallowed by Hutch's mouth, hard against his.

The shudder came from them both but Starsky erupted first, jerking against his lover erratically. "Oh, HUTCH, oh god, oh god, Hutch..." he panted out at last, struggling to continue his rise and fall. "Come to me, babe."

Hutch suddenly tensed beneath him, thrusting up one last time. "St..." He stopped abruptly, but it was too late.

Starsky leaned against him, chuckling as he caught his breath. "Gotcha, partner. But damn, I missed hearing your voice."

Hutch laughed then, loud and long. "Ah, Starsk, you win. You win. I thought I had it, but then at the last there..."

Starsky grinned. "Yeah, I win! Lobster and steak, here I come."

Hutch grabbed him by the shoulders. "Lobster and steak, huh?"

Starsky nodded.

"Not until you've tried this yourself, partner." He bent close to Starsky's face, brushing lips across his. "Stay quiet, Starsk. Don't say a word."

It turned out to be a very long, and noisy, night.

_~end_


End file.
